Child of Egypt
by Incuria
Summary: Extreamly loosly based on Jack and the Bean Stock. Rated for later chapters. Warnings in the head of chapters, but if you've read my stuff before you already know.
1. Chapter 1

Note: So this is my next multi-chapter story. Oh, and I am aware of the fact that certain things in this story were not invented at the time. Well ya know what? I don't do this often but I'm pulling the Author Card. So DEAL WITH IT! Heehee And enjoy!

Warnings: None. Not in this chapter. Absolutely none. HA!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-gi-oh

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Chapter One

You've all heard the story, I'm sure. Of the boy who sold his family's cow for a hand full of magic beans. You've all heard that the beans grew a stalk that stretched to the cloud palace of a giant who owned a hen that laid golden eggs and a harp that played itself.

Well obviously it's all wrong. I suppose the most glaringly inaccurate bit would be the setting. The original_ did not_ take place in some tiny English village in the early renaissance; it took place in Egypt. And I have _no_ idea where the giant bit came from, but I suppose the travelers who spread the story couldn't believe that a mere mortal would be so powerful. Though whoever decided the Pharaoh of all Egypt was a mere mortal was severely mistaken. As for the chicken, it must have been made up to explain the huge amounts of gold that he wore around his neck, decorated his palace with, and had buried in his tomb.

Nevertheless, the most personally offensive part of the whole ludicrous hyperbole was the idea that the harp was inanimate…sort of. Why did it bother me? Because I _was_ that harp; not a being of twisted and manipulated metal, but a boy of flesh. Though they told me the blood of the moon ran through my veins rather than more human liquids. Iah inm, is what they called me. I do remember a time when I did not live in the palace, awaiting the next time the Pharaoh would beckon me. I remember my parents hiding me when the time to build came. Those days when the Pharaoh's soldiers rode through the towns, rounding up men to pull the heavy blocks up precariously secured wooden platforms; and women to mix the crude 'mortar' that was little more than a sticky substance to spread over cracks.

They hid me for fear of what the close Egyptian sun did to my silvered skin. If there was a name for me in our time I was not aware of it, however the name in your time is 'albino'. The sun reddened my alabasters kin till blisters covered its otherwise unmarred surface. But the tiny dirt-floored hut we lived in had few places to hide, so when they came, ignoring my mother's panicked pleas, the dragged me from beneath a pile of pallets and shoved a bucket of water into my hands.

Being a small, malnourished child, the had deemed me useful only to carry water to the parched workers. And that is how he found me, scampering from patch of shade to patch of shade, with my bucket and bowl, singing softly to myself to pass the time.

That day the Pharaoh had come to survey the progress on his grand tomb, he had paused and raised his hand for silence. Oblivious, my back turned toward my King, I had continued the simple peasants song into the abrupt silence for a full five breaths before I snapped my mouth shut. I spun around, arms raised to stop the whip that would surely be whistling down towards me.

"Why do you cower boy?" The Pharaoh asked me. I blinked in the light glittering from his necklace.

"I'm sorry. I'll be quiet and get back to work," I promised with a quick lowering of my eyes. He smiled good-naturedly and took the bucket from my quaking hands. Then he bade me sing. And I did, for when the Pharaoh of all Egypt bids you sing, you do.

I'd like to say that I sang the most beautifully I had ever sung before, that I was the envy of all that heard me. But I was terrified. So notes came out vibrato when they should have been clear; the frantic beating of my heart forced the air out of my lungs long before notes were supposed to be over. However when I finished, eyes locked firmly on the ground, the Pharaoh hand even some of the guards were clapping.

That was the last day I ever worked near the pyramids. I learned the Pharaoh's name was Atemu, and he had a great love of music. He had a strange assortment of instruments, long hollow pipes with holes, great heaps of metal that you banked on with mallets, and other things I can't even begin to describe. But my favorite, the one I taught myself to play, was a small golden loop, with thing strings stretching from top to bottom. Atemu called it a harp.

I lived in the palace after that, I even had my own room. By today's standards the room was little more than a glorified closet, but it was far grander than anything I could have hoped for in the village. He gave me new clothes, beautiful things spun from linen and lined with silk. He gave me two necklaces, the first was a pair of golden birds, wings extended to touch its twin; though I gave that one to my family. They had enough wealth now to higher their status. The other was a circle of cold, the pints of a pyramid touching the loop, and an eye covered the pyramid. Five thick gold points dangled from the ring. I had thought about giving them this necklace as well, but I couldn't bare to part with it. Instead it hung from a thick leather cord around my thin neck.

The Pharaoh would call for me whenever he desired, and I played and sang for him. He left for long spells during the day, to go check on the progress of his grand tomb. I took to wandering about the palace during these times.

There were grand rooms and hidden passages, long hallways and big bedrooms, but my favorite was the gardens. A tall wall separated the garden from the rest of the palace and from the outside world. I liked to lean against the wall where the great shadow it cast protected me from the sun. My sudden elavation in status meant that I was no longer a village slave, but that only meant that I was a palace slave now. Not that I was complaining, I got to sing often, and I no longer had to brave the scorching Egyptian sun.

On one of these days my wanderings found me in the palace gardens; vast courtyards of plants, flowers, and shrubs. They were so different from the gardens of my village, whose soul purpose was to feed the family who tended to it. These gardens were made to be enjoyed, simply to look pretty.

I was inspecting a particularly vibrant when a head popped over the lip of the wall. I started, surprised. The owner of the head turned toward me and raised a finger to his pale lips. The teenager on the wall winked at me, and slipped back down the side of the wall that separated us.

That was the first time I met the infamous 'King of Thieves', though I didn't know it. He…_looked _like me. The same silver skin, the same long vanilla hair. But his features, they were…_sharper_ than mine. Harsh angles, as if they had been cut with the desert winds, his eyes were a deep crimson, where mine were the color of dark wood. He was wild where I was tame, hard where I was soft, strong where I was weak.

He came often after that, though I never saw him in the same place. When I was alone I would hear footsteps in an empty hall, followed by a dark chuckle. I would spin around, hoping to get a glimpse of my mystery visitor, but the most I ever saw was the tail of a crimson cloak.

It was on one of these days that I was wondering through the empty throne room, the Pharaoh was gone with all his guards and servants. I'm sure there were other people somewhere in the palace, but I never came across them. That was the day the phantom came again. I spun, I searched, and I saw nothing. Deciding I had imagined the noise I continued on my path. Then came the low chuckle. I froze, wide mocha eyes darting around the empty room. I licked my lips.

"He-hello?" my voice shook with the same vigor as my slim fingers. Another chuckle, and my head snapped to the side.

"My, what pretty things the Pharaoh warms his bed with," the voice sang, mockingly. A blush colored my pale cheeks and my hands balled into fists.

"I am _not _a bed slave!" I yelled, embarrassed and angry. One of the torches lining the walls flickered out, then another, then another till the great room was half submerged in shadows. A few seconds passed while I trembled in the dark, then I was aware of a presence behind me. He laughed at me again, a small sardonic sound. The heat of his body was pressed against me, his hands wrapped around my shoulders.

"Then _what_ does the Pharaoh in his infinite wisdom," the sarcasm dripping from his lips was nearly tangible, "waste such beauty on?" I flushed again, remaining silent. He waited a moment, then ran a sharp nail down the length of my jaw line, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end and my breathing to speed up. "I asked you a question, little slave." My courage crumpled.

"I-I sing for him. And I play for him," I confessed, then his body was gone, leaving me suddenly cold. I turned again, the phantom had seated himself on the Pharaoh's throne. I froze, but Atemu wasn't here. And he wouldn't be back for a while.

"Ah, a little song bird for our god king," he rolled his eyes. "What is your name, song bird?" I licked my lips and watched as he slung his legs over the armchair.

"Iah inm." I gave him the name the guards called me, but he shook his head.

"That's a description, not a name," he admonished with a dismissive wave of his hands. I looked down.

"My name is Ryou," I told the floor. The spirit made a small sound of appreciation. "And yours?" he remained silent for a while.

"Bakura." I smiled.

The door behind me swung open and I turned toward the noise. Atemu came through, his gurads close behind. My head snapped back to Bakura, worried for his safety, but the throne was empty, the rich purple silk throw barely even rumpled.

"That damned their! That low, petty little pickpocket!" Atemu yelled, making broad gestures with heis closed fists. My eyes dropped as my King passed me. He semed headed for his thorone, but the second he threw himself angrily into it he popped bac up. "How long before we can replace what he took?" The gurads answered him with bewildered shrugs and nervous glances. I was aobut to duck out of the room when he noticed me.

"Ry-" he started. But the gurads were there. "Iah inm, play something. Something calming until the architect gets here." One of the gurads took this as his que, turning to leave the room in search of the master architect. I lifted the small harp from my hip. I had taken to keeping it one me at all times. I strummed a simple lullaby, keeping my voice low and mostly just plaing the harp. Just as I finished the door opened again, and the tubby short master architect hurried through. Atemu simply raised an eye brow at him.

"Your Highness, the designs that were stolen, they were the revised copies. The originals are in my privet quarters. They will only take half a day to put the revisions on and passed it to the lesser architects," he assured the Pharaoh. Atemu smiled, running his hand through his blond bangs.

His hair was what made him more god than mortal. The few blond bangs were rumored to be rays from the sun god Ra himself, the sun shape of his black and red hair was further testament. If Atemu had been chosen and marked by the sun, did that mean that I had been marked by the moon? Had Bakura?

I was awakened from my musings by Atemu beckoning me to follow him. He swept from the room with me closer behind. Once we were out of ear shot I stopped walking behind him and matched my pace to his.

"What happened?" I asked quietly, eyes still fixated on the ground. Atemu seemed to crave not only my music but my company. He sometimes called me to his room to talk, I would sit on the floor, legs crossed and he would sit on his great bed. He told me of lands far beyond Egypt, places he had been to and heard of, stories he knew, people he had met, anything that crossed his mind.

I was fond of the Pharaoh, he had taken me in, protected me, he even called me by my real name, though only when there was no one to hear it. But he sometimes became inexplicably angry at me. Well, perhaps not angry, but he would snap at a question I had asked, or demand why I kept my eyes on the ground so constantly. He once called me meek, and though he meant it as a joke it hurt my feelings all the same.

"That damn child thief has come to the village. He stole a number of the villagers' possessions and took the plans for my pyramid. And we were making such progress today!" he seethed. I licked my lips and remained silent. The thought of Atemu dieing scared me. He had yet to find an heir, and I was afraid of what would happen to me. Would I be cast out of the palace and back to the village.

I followed him to his room, and he ushered me inside. I took my place on the floor and he sat on the bed. He asked for another song, but I didn't even have the chance to pluck the first note. The same architect came bursting through the door without even knocking. He panted, as if he had run very far and fast.

"F-forgive my…Your Highness!" he panted, hands on his knees.

"What, what _is _it?" he demanded.

"The-the thief, he has broken…into my room. Your Highness, he has taken the designs from my room as well!" he yelled, panicked.

Atemu shot up from his seat.

"THAT BASTARD!" he yelled in a fit of rage. The architect nodded.

"It is all gone, I'll have to start from scratch."

"And no one saw him? No one saw the fiend come to my palace and sneak about?" The man shook his head.

"One of the servants said she saw a boy with silver hair by my room, but it must have been…" he paused, trying to remember my name. "Iah inm. Was it you boy?" he demanded, his tone angry. I shrank back into myself.

"Do _not _accuse one of my personal slaves," Atemu hissed angrily.

"I beg your pardon."

My phantom…he must be…Bakura must be the Thief King. And he seemed to have taken an interest in me.

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Haha! Cliffhanger, sort of. Well, please review and all that. Hope you enjoyed this.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Thank you mikkimikka, Shminzi, CoCoBookmark, and chrono-contract for the reviews, they are very much so appreciated!!

Warning: Once again, nothing really.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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It took a full two weeks to get the designs redrawn and passed out. It might have taken longer but Atemu stomped into the architect's room every few hours, demanding progress. Nightly he called me into his room, not to play but to listen to his rants. The Thief King Bakura. He, my phantom, was the cause of his anger. I sat silent at the foot of his bed while he paced the room, yelling curses and oaths. Through all of this I could do little more than bite my lip and keep my eyes to the ground.

Should I tell him of my silver haired ghost? Obviously he was the thief that my King had been fuming about. But every time I opened my mouth to tell him something stopped me; some…_force_ stopped me. I simply couldn't, whether it was from some form of misplaced loyalty or if I thought he wouldn't believe me I don't know. Maybe it was that I was already in love, even then.

Construction started up again and Atemu went back to leaving daily; rather than being restlessly confined to the palace. I took these times to scour the palace for my phantom. For days there was noting, then came the day in the hallway. He seemed to have a love of shadowed rooms, as yet again, most of the torches had flickered out. I froze, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

Something shifted behind me and a shock of fear barreled through my body.

"Hello Ryou. Long time no see." Was he behind me, or to the left? I spun, and was blind. I lost my footing and tipped backwards. I would have fallen to the stone floor if my phantom hadn't caught me. His arms wrapped around my shoulders and crossed over my chest, pinning my arms to my sides.

"L-let me go," I stuttered. He was a thief in the days when thieves killed for little more than a look; and I knew his secret. He chuckled darkly into my ear.

"Why would I do that? It's been a long time since I've held anything so pretty," he whispered. I blushed.

"I'm not an object," I told him, desperately trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. Bakura laughed at me once again.

"Yes. You are. The Pharaoh took you from your family and from then on you have been an object. Just because you've been taught a few tricks doesn't make you a person again." Bakura's words hurt, mostly because they were true. I licked my suddenly dry lips.

"Then I'm the Pharaoh's object; so let me go." It was all the courage I could muster. His arms tightened around me rather than letting go.

"And I'm a thief." Another swell of fear rose from my stomach to my chest, then finally settled in my thrat; the force of it welled tears in my eyes. He couldn't mean that…

"Y-you wouldn't steal from the Pharaoh! That's suicide!" He laughed.

"I'm the _king_ of thieves. I take _whatever_ I want, no matter who it belongs to," he whispered in my ear like some demon of the night. I tried to struggle my way out of his arms but he was too strong. "Don't struggle little bird. You'll only hurt yourself." He said _I_ would hurt myself but it was his hand that slid up to my throat, his fingers that tightened over my windpipe, stopping any air and my will to fight. Bakura pushed me against a wall, the chill of the stones biting through my thin clothes. I shivered. "Play something for me." I looked at him, confused as he backed up a step. He merely crossed his arms.

"What do you want me to play?" I asked. What do you play for a thief? He shrugged, still watching me. He looked ready to catch me if I ran, but there was not need. My fear held me routed to the spot. Great waves of it crashed through me. How had I been so stupid to seek this man out? I took the little harp from my waist and pulled my trembling hands over the strings. He raised his brow at the feeble notes that came out.

"Such trouble for a shaky hand. Perhaps you're not as valuable as I had thought," he chided. I shot him a glare, nothing very impressive with my feminine features. I sank to the floor, my knees weren't going to hold me for much longer. I took a few deep breathes and strummed another few notes. No song had made itself present in my mind as of yet. A lullaby? He'd jest at it. A tale of a foreign hero? Surely that would bore him with its tales of morality. There was a little song…it was about a pair of lovers meeting a t a pool. For some reason that one stuck with me, so it was what I played for him. The words were a little high for me, but I sang for him. After a few bars he sat down across from me. He kept a steady gaze on my face. It unnerved me, but I hardly had the courage to tell him to stop. I hadn't finished when he leaned forward, getting up on hi knees. He cupped his palm to my cheek, and my fingers froze on the instrument. "I take it back. Your music is pretty as your face."

This terrified me, I'm not sure why, he had called me pretty before, he had touched me before, but never with this tenderness. Nobody had, not since my parents…I made a little gasp noise and pulled back as far as the wall would let me, and when that was not enough I sank closer to the floor. I turned my face so he wouldn't see my tears. He only laughed at me for the umpteenth time since our meeting and leaned down to kiss my cheek.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" I demanded. Why was he touching me like this? Why did I feel such unease around him but at the same time feel so… He smile, and ran his hand up my arm to my neck, then something made him stop. His fingers brushed the cord that my necklace hung from. He pulled the ring from inside my shirt and lay it on his palm. Something dark and maleficent flitted across his face, like a cloud passing over the sun. His crimson eyes met mine and he yanked me up by my arms.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded. I trembled in answer. Bakura lost his temper and slapped me across the face.

"The-the Pharaoh! He gave it to me when I first came here!" My hand on my face, cheek stinging. He left then, eyes blazing in anger.

I sat shivering in the hallway long after he had left. What had caused such a volatile reaction from him? My necklace? Or the fact that the Pharaoh had given it to me? Eventually I rose to my feet and went back to my room.

I told myself there and then that I would never wander the palace, or seek him out ever again. I walked back to my room on weak knees.

Atemu called me to his chamber the next morning. I was still scared, still unnerved from being… Bakura. He scared me, a lot.

"The pyramid is coming along nicely," he told me after I had played a song for him. I smiled for him, a motion that never reached my eyes.

"Have you made up for the lost time?" I asked. He leaned back on his bed as I sat on the floor.

"Mmm. Not really, but a few more days ought to do it. I suppose that what's-his-name the thief has moved no." I licked my lips and looked at the floor. He was gone? But that was a good thing, wasn't it? He wouldn't be back again, wouldn't sneak up on me again. Still, something tight and bitter wound itself in my stomach. "Ryou, will you stop looking at the floor? I've given you permission again and again to ignore decorum when we are alone and still you ignore me," Atemu lectured. I flushed and looked up to his face, though I focused on the bridge of his nose rather than his eyes. I am, and always will be, terrible at eye contact.

Atemu left a few hours after that. With his tomb so close to completion he seemed eager to be near it at all times. Was the rest of eternity not enough for him? I stayed behind as always, though I went straight to one of the gardens, staying only in the brightly lit halls. I sat next to one of the bushes of pretty flowers and plucked one out. The tree above me kept me in the shade, and it even produced a fruit. Something sweet in a prickly skin that I didn't know the name of. I twirled the flower between my fingers, humming softly to myself.

There was a sound from behind me and I twisted to face it. _He_ popped from behind a bush, or a tree, or maybe he just appeared. He had a bag with bulging seams on his back. I remember thinking, in my naiveté, that he was packed and ready to leave town.

I huddled in on myself, but stayed where I was as he seated himself next tome. It was…surreal. Sitting next to the man I had been so scared of. He smiled at me and I turned to look at him, something about the pure daylight and his sitting there as if nothing had ever happened.

"You're leaving?" I asked, eyeing his bag. He nodded, and I suddenly felt lonely. I'm not sure why, but something in my very soul _needed_ to reach out to him, to beg him to say. "So…I'll never see you again?" He laughed.

"I wouldn't say that." I smiled to myself. I'm not sure why, but I wasn't scared now, I wasn't angry or afraid of hi, I just wanted to be near him. I nodded at the bag.

"What's in there?" I asked. He smirked at me.

"The other things I'm stealing today." I turned toward him in time to see him reach over to my neck. His fingers tightened on something, and the darkness converged over my eyes.

He had knocked me out cold.

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I'm sorry that this one is so short, but this was such a good place to end it. And I now this was a long time coming but, I feel, it's better written than my others, and I have a SHIT load of homework. But I will do my best to get the next one out soon. PLEASE REVIEW!!


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Oh my god, I'm so sorry that I haven't updated before this! I just….didn't. I don't even have an excuse. I just…didn't. Well, here it is, chapter three. I'm sorry, PLEASE don't be angry at me!! Anyway, I'll try to be faster next time. Thank you to everyone that reviewed!

Warning: None for this chapter either. But if you're against yaoi, non-con, or general weirdness, don't get attached to this story.

Disclaimer: I _don't_ own Yu-gi-oh.

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I felt myself floating up to the surface of consciousness, but I wasn't ready to be awake yet, so I stubbornly turned my head on my pallet and fell back asleep. I woke a few hours after that I think, and repeated the process. It was freezing in my room, colder than I had ever felt it. I reached for the thin blanket that resided at the bottom of my pallet, but couldn't find it.

I remember waking up, searching for my blanket, and I remember the swell of fear I felt when I realized why it wasn't there. This wasn't my room, not in the palace, not even in my family's hut. I sat bolt upright. My hands sank into something. I looked down to see my hand half submerged in sand.

"Ah, you're awake." I whipped my head around to see my phantom a few feet away, huddled over a fire. Oh Ra. Where was I? I looked in every direction but for as far as I could see everything was bathed in the silver light of the full moon; there was no hint of the amber light of fire from a hut or torch. And if Bakura had a fire going then we must be far enough away that he didn't feel the threat of being found. How far could he have traveled on foot? Carrying me and a bag full of stolen goods?

"Wh-where are we?" I cursed the quaver in my voice. He smiled at me.

"We're in the desert." My feet were tingling with fear. "Come here, you need to warm up." I stayed where I was, reluctant to go near him. He looked over at me when I didn't move.

"How did we get here so fast?" Had I been right when I called him a demon? Had the sands swallowed us up and spit us out here on his command? He gestured to something to his left. I followed the movement to an animal, a camel. It was weighed down with coarse fabric ked bags and woven baskets. I t looked lie it was asleep. "I didn't know you had a camel." Bakura shrugged.

"I do now. I'd like a faster one though. I had to keep hitting it to make it run. Come here Ryou, you need to warm up." I ignored him again.

"You stole it?" I asked, it was a stupid question, but I couldn't think of any other way to stall. Bakura rolled his eyes.

"Yes, and earlier I stole you. Now if you make me tell you to come over here one more time I am going to make you regret it. Get over here _now_," his voice came out in a low hiss. Scrambling t o my feet I went to the small fire and sat on the opposite side. I thought he might tell me to come to his side but he didn't, so I turned around to assess my situation.

"The only reason I don't have you bound from head to foot is because you would have to be truly stupid to run from me here. There is no water or food to be had fro a great distance." I felt the last bit of hope drain from me. What replaced it was a tight heavy feeling that sank to the pit of my stomach and settled there. "We'll be heading into town today." I frowned, turning back to him.

"Why?" He rolled his eyes at me yet again, he got up and walked around to my side of the fire. Automatically my entire body tightened up, my heart accelerated to a near frantic pace and my stomach lurched. He seemed to notice my sudden shift in body language as he smirked at me. Bakura reached down and stroked a single lock of my hair with his thumb and forefinger. I bit down hard on my lip, desperately trying to keep control over myself. He kneeled down on the side of me in the sand and moved his hand slowly across the back of my neck. My eyes opened wide and I tucked my legs up to my chest. He chuckled.

"I'm going to sell some of this stuff. And I'm going to see if anyone has enough money for you."

"What?!" I jerked away from him as my stomach dropped so fast I almost threw up. Bakura laughed at me.

"I have no use for a songbird. But someone will pay for one, just like all the other things I steal." He grabbed my hand with his right, and with his left he ran his fingertips over my wrist. "You've never worked, not really. I'll make sure your new master will keep you to play, not work." He moved his hand to cup my cheek. "I know what the sun does to our skin." His thumb smoothed over my cheekbone. He was going to sell me? So soon? He had stolen me from the most secure home I had ever had, had told me he was going to sell me in the morning, and he continued to _touch_ me. I think what disturbed me the most was _how_ he touched me, tender caresses coupled with harsh and confusing words.

Atemu had touched me like this once. He had reached out and turned my face towards his, but his fingers had lingered too long on my jaw. But I had never been afraid of Atemu. It was _Bakura's_ hand on my face, _Bakura's_ fingers rubbing my skin. And that's why my breath hitched in my throat as I threw my weight backward to escape him.

My back met sand and I attempted to roll and run but Bakura was too fast. He pushed me back to the ground, a foot on my chest. I struggled for a moment under the pressure, but soon gave up when he ground his heel against my ribcage. My breath hitched again as my hands convulsed in the sand. He glared at me for a while, long enough that I lost the eye contact and was forced to look away. With a final sneer he moved, kicking sand on the fire. "Get up. We're leaving." I sat up, but shot him a confused look.

"Now? But the sun isn't up yet!" I protested. I had been taught to stay inside during the night hours, the darkness hid the dangers the world had to offer. Then again I was already with Bakura, so how much worse could things get? Bakura though differently.

He moved to me quickly and grabbed my upper arm, hauling me to my feet.

"I don't travel during the day. There is no shelter out here and It's too hot to wear as many layers as we would need to do protect our skin. Get on the camel." I scrambled on the animals' back. It made a groaning noise and staggered to its feet. Bakura kicked more sand onto the fire and eventually swung himself onto the camel's back, seating himself behind me. He leaned over a woven basket and pulled out a length of coarse rope. He reached around me, bringing the rope with him, and wound it around my torso, pinning my arms to my sides. "I can't have you trying to get away from me," he explained.

I shivered, not liking the feeling of him being so in control of me, of being at his mercy. But what choice did I have? Bakura kicked the camel inot motion and it lurched forward. I wobbled witht the motion and wondered how I had stayed asleep on the way there. Bakura wrapped his arms around my stomach, pressing my back to his chest, his warmth seeping through my clothes. I tried to lean forward, to get away from him; but he pulled me back and locked his arms around my stomach so I couldn't get away again. "Don't misbehave, little Ryou, or I'll tie you to the camel." This seemed to amushe him, he sat chuckling in my ear for a long time.

One of the strangest things that passed through my mind was the fact that Bakura _smelled _familiar to me. Not only familiar, but like someone I had known very well. I couldn't place my finger on who it was though, and that bothered me, the feeling that went with that scent felt too important to to forget. Had I meant him before? Known him in the village or from the caravans that passed through every once in a while? I licked my lips and breathed in his skin.

And then the feeling was gone, and all he smelled like was sweat and sand. We didn't travel far before we hit the outskirts of a town. I turned to him, eyes wide and angry.

"You said we were _miles_ away from the nearest town! It's barely even been an hour!" He laughed at me.

"I lied." I started to say something but he silenced me with a hand over my mouth. "Shh, little Ryou, if I hadn't tricked you I would have had to tie you up all night. Soon though we'll be far enough away from the palace that I won't need to worry about you running away anymore." Defeated, I sank lower into the seat. I was so despondent that I couldn't even bring myself to care that the action caused me to sink deeper into my captor. He didn't seem to mind either, wrapping his arms around me tighter, holding the reigns.

Bakura walked us into town slowly, the poor camel must have been near dead his pace was so slow. As we got farther into town I could see small stalls set up, early risers selling their wares, mostly shiny baubles and pretty necklaces. The closer we got to the center of town the more congested the roads got. I couldn't tell if this was a single day bazaar or if these stalls were more permanent. The sun was beginning to rise, casting shadows over the huts and the cloth ceiling stands.

He stopped in front of a stall that had nothing displayed on it. There was a man standing behind the makeshift counter. His skin was the dark burnt caramel that I had grown up around but would never posses and his dark brown hair had been shaved at one point, but had grown back out. Bakura slid off the camel and pulled me down with him. I nearly lost my balance, but landed on my feet. I was suddenly very aware of the rope around my body, my cheeks flushing red. If I had been a bit more naïve I would have begged the man in the stand to save me.

"Hello old friend. It's been a long time," he said. Bakura smiled at him…well, not really smiled, but his usual smirk didn't hold _much_ menace to it.

"Yes." I shifted my weight, feeling restless. The man seemed to be waiting for Bakura to say something else. But he didn't, he remained silent, unmoving, simply watching the other man and waiting. Finally the man sighed.

"What do you have for me this time?" he asked. Bakura smirk/smiled again and turned to take down one of the sacks from the camel.

It was only when his back was turned that the man looked at me. His eyes swept over me quickly, taking me in from head to foot. But when Bakura turned back around the man had eyes only for him, or rather for the assortment of objects in the sack. "Where did you find such wealth, my friend?" he asked, eyebrows high. Bakura laughed.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." The man shrugged, pulling the treasures out one by one. He took a long time examining each piece until Bakura cleared his throat loudly.

"I'm sorry, friend. These wealth has me distracted. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I'm going to be traveling. I need food, water, and light. Oh, and a pallet. The sands are not as comfortable as I remember." The man laughed and started placing objects behind his stall. He reached for a small gold cat, and Bakura stopped him with a hand on the cat.

"This one is for information," he told the man, keeping eye contact. The man licked his lips, eyes never leaving the miniscule figurine.

"What do you want to know?" Bakura sneered, the evil look that I had grown accustomed to.

"Who is in town?" The man looked up for a second before his eyes locked back onto the cat.

"Akil, Paki, and Haji. They'll be here for the next seven days." There was a tense moment, and then Bakura pushed the statuette towards him. The man smiled widely and lent down behind his stall again. He came back up with a few small sacks, I caught a whiff of salted meat from one and something sweet from the other. Next came a large animal hide that was full of water.

"If you happen to have a wide pallet I would appreciate it," Bakura told him. The man nodded and shuffled through something out of sight before placing a long cylinder of rolled pallet on his little counter. Bakura picked up the goods and began repacking the camel.

He eventually picked me back up and pushed me onto the camel again, this seemed to panic the man.

"And the boy? Would you like me to…?" he let the question trail off. My eyes widened before I looked to Bakura. I didn't want to be left with this man. But I needn't have bothered.

Bakura shook his head.

"I'm not done with the boy yet." The man looked confused.

"Then, another pallet?" he asked. Bakura threw his head back and laughed loudly.

"No, the one will do."

We left then. Bakura perched himself on top of the camel and kicked it on. So, I was not to be left with this man. I wasn't going to be sold immediately, but I was still in the power of my phantom.

* * *

That's it for now. Um, the sex will happen later, much later. Um….please review. I'd love some suggestions, but I have a vague idea of where I want this to go, so please don't be offended if I don't take them.


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